


Maybe It's Not So Bad

by CompletelyCreative



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Dean, Drunken Confessions, Fandom-Songs Writing Challenge, M/M, New York City, but i prevail, finals are killing me im so sorry, fswc, this is shit quality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompletelyCreative/pseuds/CompletelyCreative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never wants to hear anything ever again. Everything that reaches his ears is just... always bad. There's only one person he can think of that can give him the good news that he wants to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe It's Not So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Finals are killing me and I want to sleep forever so I apologize about the quality of this, I do not have the physical or spiritual energy to edit this so I'm sorry.
> 
> Day 5 of my Fandom-Songs 30 Day Writing Challenge
> 
> This one is based off of the song 'White Knuckles' by OK Go.

Music blared offensively in ears that were deaf in alcohol. Dean didn’t want to hear anything. Because whenever he did hear, it was never pleasant. It was always a scream, or a cry for help, or words spat in hate... or words that spilled in something that was no longer love. Whatever Dean heard, was always bad news. For example, just this afternoon, the last thing Dean heard before he plugged his ears was, ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ And how could someone just say that? He didn’t get it -- she could’ve at least had some manners before she took her jacket -- that he bought, by the way -- and his car keys, and closed the door behind her. At least she could have said sorry for knocking over the plant by the door as she upped and outed. Dean looked over at the dried soil that was still scattered on the hardwood floor. He hadn’t cleaned it up.

He needed it do that.

Dean looked back at his fifth beer.

He needed to do that later.

The beer wasn’t even that good, either. It was cheap, like it was made purely for a light-weight sorority chick. The thin taste stayed in his mouth for too long, he couldn’t get it out. So he took some more, hoping that it would wash it away.

By his seventh beer, Dean was starting to feel a bit dizzy. The football game was getting too boring and predictable, and the music died. He didn’t want to hear anything. It was all just bad news.

Dean chuckled as his slow mind pieced together a phrase that his little brother would say. ‘Well, what’s one thing that isn’t bad news, Dean? There’s gotta be one thing.’ 

But then he stopped laughing when he thought of it.

There was, indeed, one thing -- or, person, he should say -- that never did bring bad news. They never told him that his mom died, they never told him that he was fired, or that there was no love in his life anymore... They only ever told them that they loved his hair, or that they loved his laugh and his jokes, and even once, drunkenly, told him that they just loved him. And that wasn’t bad news. In fact, it seemed pretty good. Maybe... maybe Dean just needed to hear him, hear some good news, for once. He swiped his phone open, and started dialing the number. He missed the ‘3’, the first time. This was a good idea, right? Dean looked over his shoulder.

Well, it was better than a wilting plant on his floor.

The phone rang four times before he picked up. He didn’t even say a word before Dean blurted out.

‘Cas! Hey pal, h-how you doin’?’ It was silent down the line for a little while.

‘...Dean?’

‘Yeeeeep, babe, it’s mee. I... wwwell, I came by for some good news. I need it right now. Like, really bad.’

‘Good news?’

‘Yeeeeeeeeeee...’

‘...How bad?’

‘Wah?’ There was a pause.

‘Okay, very bad.’

‘Yay! Thank you Cas, I lluuh...’ Dean hiccuped. ‘Good news, please.’ Castiel paused again. It gave time Dean to think, in those few seconds. Castiel was a great guy, he really was...   
but Dean couldn’t quite remember how he met him. All he really knew at that moment, was that Castiel had so much friction in his body that it could start a fire. And Dean really liked the sound of that. 

Really.

Cas took another breath.

‘Okay, first, tell me what happened.’

Damn.

‘Uh, well, sooooo y’know my girlfriend, riight?’

‘...Lisa?’

‘Don’t say her naaaaame,’ he whined. Castiel sighed.

‘She walked out, didn’t she.’

‘Yeep.’

‘Fuck, Dean... I knew this would happen, and I warned you... you absolute dickhead, god...’

‘GOOD NEWS, PLEASE!’ And now look what happened, Dean spilled his beer. The sound of his own voice made him jump. Castiel laughed lightly.

‘...Okay, Dean. I’ll give you good news.’

‘Thankya--’

‘But you have to give me good news, first.’ Ugh.

On a normal day, Dean would have told Cas that he’ll see him tomorrow, and that would have been that. But right there, on that couch, Dean was fully aware that he was cracking open his eighth beer -- he didn’t know where the seventh one went. This was not a normal day. He took a breath, and said as quickly as possible,   
‘erhmseeegleehiineersseeiiwwasssstreii.’

There was a very long pause, right then.

‘Dean.’

‘I’m single, Cas.’

‘...And?’

‘And I tol’ you that I was straight, but we’re all liars, aren’t we?’

‘...Are you saying...’

‘I’m pissed off my ass, but I know when I’m hard.’

‘And are you...’

‘Very.’

The pause was very short after that.

‘You have some good news, Dean.’

‘And that is?’

‘I’m at your door.’

 

|-|-|-|

 

Dean groaned against his pillow, and turned onto his side. There was a familiar scent around, one of comfort and warmth and dry friction. Oh, did Dean love friction, and he definitely felt it last night. He begged for it, begging to be ‘fucked so hard that he couldn’t hear anymore,’ and boy, did friction deliver. He could still hear, though. He could hear heavy breathing next to him, he could hear the air conditioning running, he could hear his own heart pumping. He closed his eyes, and listened.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

He could hear his curtains rustling in the wind, he could hear people yelling and walking outside, he could hear high heels, he could hear people waving taxis down, he could hear the traffic, cars revving, honking, running...

He bolted upright, eyes wide. 

She took his fucking car keys.

_Shit._


End file.
